Swerve Chapter 2
A month had gone by, and the club had embraced the idea that Diablo and I had come up with to oversee Wrath’s Recovery.
An ad was placed immediately after we held church the following Monday.
We’d been getting several applicants, but the interview process had been a waste.
Those who passed Micro’s resume review and background check all fell through or fell apart during the interview stage.
Some were wonderful on paper but shit in person.
Others were unwilling to work in the dynamic we wanted, even though it had been spelled out in the ad.
Others weren’t impressive with their answers to the topics raised.
When questioned, I wanted to ask them point-blank if they had sent us someone else’s resume.
They couldn’t answer questions that were within the norm for their backgrounds.
Others were stressed by the idea of working for a motorcycle club.
Again, that had been disclosed in the ad.
On the other hand, we got those who only applied because they thought it would be fun to work for the MC and party with us.
When we explained it was a professional relationship, not an open invitation to come to the compound and hang with us every weekend, most of those applicants left disgruntled.
I was beginning to despair that we’d never find the right person, so I was trying to think of alternatives.
I arrived at Recovery, not looking forward to the interview we were about to have.
I’d already discounted it as another waste of time, but I needed to be present, so here I was.
I’d gotten busy with my regular job the past several days, so I’d left it to Diablo and Jauhnna to determine whether any applicants were worth talking to. They’d come up with this one.
I waved away any attempt they made to tell me anything about the person.
I was coming in cold this time. Preparing beforehand hadn’t helped with the prior ones.
If they said the résumé was good and Micro gave the green light, then I was all set.
I figured it would last no more than thirty minutes, tops, before the man or woman left.
I hadn’t cared to ask whether it was a man or a woman. Both had been applying.
The weather in Florida at the beginning of April was warm.
Whenever I could ride, I did. I’d missed it for so long that I couldn’t get enough.
I loved the looks Dozer and I got as we sped down the streets and highways.
People couldn’t help but stop, point, wave, and sometimes laugh out loud.
Here I was on this tricked-out bike that held my regular wheelchair folded up and attached to it, along with the sidecar containing Dozer.
He sat there, gazing at everything and everyone, wearing his aviation goggles to protect his eyes.
When he was happy, his tongue would hang out, making him look comical.
He was strapped in so he wouldn’t jump out, not that he would. Dozer was too well-trained.
I’d had some people refer to him as a monster due to his regular appearance.
His size, along with his mostly black coat—a black brindle—made him intimidating, but if you were out to cause no harm, then he was a gentle, loving dog.
Sometimes I was thankful that I couldn’t feel most of my legs.
When he decided to lie on my lap like a five-pound chihuahua, I’d tell him he wasn’t a lap dog and should get off me.
He’d look at me as if he thought I was crazy and snuggle more.
My couch at home barely held the two of us when he’d stretch out, which Dozer did every time.
I drew the line at allowing him to sleep in bed with me.
He insisted on sleeping in the bedroom with me, which I had no issue with as long as he stayed in his corner.
Pulling into a disabled parking spot out in front of the office building that housed Wrath’s Recovery, I shut off the motor.
It took some finagling to get the wheelchair off my bike and positioned.
Thankfully, my upper body was ripped with muscles, and I could easily lift and move the chair.
Dozer waited patiently. Once I was off the bike and in my chair, I wheeled myself around the bike to unhook Dozer so he could get out.
I heard footsteps coming up behind me. Dozer alerted me and stared over my shoulder.
I called out to whoever was approaching us.
“Stay right there. He doesn’t know you. If you’re gonna try to rob me, I wouldn’t do it.
He stays tethered because he wants to. That leash will snap like a twig if he jerks on it hard enough.
You touching me will make him go from sweet lover to a ferocious bear,” I warned without turning to see who it was.
We were in a public part of town. Pedestrians walked up and down the street all the time. I doubted I was about to be mugged, but you couldn’t be too careful. Some people see a disabled person, or one with limitations, and automatically think of them as a victim or target.
“Duly noted. I was coming over to see if I could offer you some assistance, though you do an amazing job lifting your chair as if it weighed nothing. I know how heavy they can be. I thought if I unhooked your dog and took off his goggles, it would save you a couple of steps. However, I see you’re an independent guy, so go for it. ”
“So you thought the crippled man needed your help?” I asked without turning to face the woman. I let a trace of my annoyance show in my tone. People were only trying to be helpful or friendly, but it got irritating. There wasn’t much I couldn’t do myself.
“No, I thought, what a huge-ass dog with the kindest face. I had to see whether looks were deceiving. Truthfully, I couldn’t give a damn about you. However, your bike isn’t a bad second choice to look at,” the woman said snarkily, making me chuckle.
I undid Dozer’s tether and slipped off his goggles. He came bounding out of the sidecar and landed at my side. He was still watching the woman. I turned my chair around to see the woman exchanging smartass remarks with me. I found her attitude refreshing.
When my gaze landed on her, I took in the sight of her.
The woman’s bitey wit had gotten my attention first. It told me she was more than likely intelligent.
Nothing I hated more than trying to have a conversation with someone with the IQ of a slug.
I wasn’t the smartest person on the planet, but I managed to hold my own.
Sometimes, having a good debate with another person was fun.
As my perusal ended, I knew more than she had a sharp tongue.
Whoever she was, she left an impression for another reason.
It might sound shallow, but it wasn’t meant to.
We often judge things and people based on their appearance.
It was automatic. My mystery woman was hands down a knockout in my book.
Her hair shone in the sunlight. It was a blend of gold and copper that created the most unusual shade of red.
Her brows told me it was natural, not from a bottle unless she dyed those, too.
She had it twisted in a bun on the top of her head.
She’d removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were a pale greenish-blue with starbursts of amber surrounding the pupils.
Her skin was flawless in a warm ivory shade.
She undoubtedly had to use lots of sunscreen to protect her skin.
Her nose was slender, with the tiniest upturn at the tip. Below was a full, pale pink mouth.
She was dressed in a pair of dress slacks and a button-down top, which you would expect someone to wear in a professional office setting.
We didn’t require staff to wear that kind of clothing at Recovery, but they still had to present as neat and put together.
She should’ve looked dull, but she was far from it.
On her body, it was sexy. Some might say she was fat, but she wasn’t.
This woman had a true hourglass shape, and even boring work clothing couldn’t disguise her curves.
I swear my hands almost lifted to cup the weight of her generous breasts or to span her tucked-in waist or bountiful hips. Thank God, I had some brain cells left. I scrambled to say something. I felt like an idiot, staring at her and saying nothing.
Her lips turned up at the corners. “You have a beautiful dog. I know he’s a dangerous beast, but may I ask his name? Or will that set him off?” she asked, amused.
“He’s okay, so I think you’ll be safe. His name is Dozer. He loves long walks, his ears rubbed, and using humans as his personal bed.”
She laughed. A tightness gripped my body. I wondered what her lips tasted like. I almost asked her to turn around so I could check out her ass and see if it matched the rest. If it did, meaning it was plump and filled my hands, I’d have to take a cold shower.
Since the accident, yes, I could get an erection, but I hadn’t been going around popping boners any time I felt like it. Or I hadn’t been until now. Thankfully, I had my backpack on my lap.
“I see he’s a service dog, and I know it’s bad form to pet one when working. However, I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet him again. Would he be alright if I rubbed his head, after I let him smell me?” she asked.
“I can make an exception for once. Dozer, sit.” I issued my first command. He instantly dropped his lower haunches to the pavement.
“Good, boy. Now, friend. Sit. Be gentle,” I informed him, then addressed her.
“Slowly come to stand next to me, hold out your hand, fingers in, and let him smell, and when he’s ready, he’ll nudge your hand.”
Without an ounce of hesitation, she did as I asked and patiently waited. Dozer studied her, sniffed, and then licked her fist. After that, he nudged her fist with his head. She began to rub his head, causing him to rumble like a sleeping bear. His eyes slid half shut.
“He’s so lovable,” she remarked.